Page 7 of Collin: Episodes 7-9
“No, sir.” Collin curled in on himself. Shame twisted in tight balls in his belly.
“Collin, do you feel that Émeric is also your dom?”
The room was so quiet, so still. As if none of the men were breathing. The silence beat inside Collin’s head. It pulsed in his ears, creating rhythms of fear out of nothing. He was going away. So far away.
Someone using his voice spoke. He listened and watched while his mouth moved and words came out. “I don’t know how to answer your question, sir. Please tell me what I did wrong. If I’m not wanted…”
A hand landed on his shoulder. Mr. Reevesworth was moving, sitting directly beside his husband, lifting one of his legs over Collin’s head and then bracketing him in with his thighs. His hands came down on both sides of Collin’s face. So much heat. So much warmth. Mr. Reevesworth’s legs pressed in, crushing Collin from both sides.
“Oh, you’re more than wanted, boy. But we don’t know how to move forward without coercing your consent. You’re so afraid of being sent away.”
Mr. Reevesworth cradled Collin’s face and tilted it upward. “You’re going nowhere, my boy. I need you to explain why you described it as cold.”
Collin’s eyes darted to the side. Mr. Moreau was right there. Crinkles of worry creased the edges of his eyes. He wanted those eyes to be smiling, or pressed in focus as they baked together, or creased with laughter as Damian told a funny story from a trip.
“He used to touch me, sir. When we worked in the kitchen. He called me names, good names, not bad ones, I mean. And he was…” Collin blinked, trying to put the unspoken into speech. “He was close, sir. Like you are with me. In bed, he touched me. If he was touching you and he touched me, it didn’t matter. But then it mattered. And he wasn’t home. I was in the gym with you and not him and that’s… I can’t come between you, sir.”
He tried to hang his head, but Mr. Reevesworth wouldn’t let him. He had to settle for blinking hard.
Mr. Reevesworth’s thumbs brushed away Collin’s tears. “Go on, boy.”
“He just wasn’t here, sir. And you looked sad. And then when he was home, he stayed away. And…what did I do, sir?”
“I will answer that, I promise. I want you to close your eyes now, and tell us one more thing. What do you want? I know this is hard, Collin. I know you’re panicking. And I will do whatever you need once this is done. I will not leave you. No matter what you say. But I need you to close your eyes; there you go. Good boy. Keep your eyes closed. Now breathe. Just like that. Breathe. Good. Now tell me, tell us, what you want, with Émeric, with me. What has felt right?”
“When he offered me to you and you fucked me, sir. And when Damian came to the bed and he ordered me to be with him, to make room, and held me. When he tells me what he wants. When he touches me. And touches you in front of me. When…” The blood rushing through Collin’s head felt like the edges of insanity. His vision was going, turning dark and spotty. “When I feel small and helpless and I know you’re both pleased. When either of you could take me apart and the other is—happy.”
He couldn’t breathe. He’d said all the thoughts he wasn’t supposed to even think. He’d asked for more than he had any right to ask. His limbs were tingly and cold.
The hands on his face were shoving his head down, between his own knees. The coffee table was being shoved back. Sounds were close and so far away. Something cold slapped across the back of his neck.
“I’ve got you, Collin. I’m right here. You’ve been— You’re so good. So brave.”
Hysterical laughter burst out of Collin’s chest.
“He needs skin, Richard,” Mr. Moreau said.
“Hold him.”
“I’m not sure I should.”
“Collin, Émeric is going to touch you. Do you accept?”
He nodded or thought he did. Mr. Moreau’s hands replaced Mr. Reevesworth’s on his head and shoulders. The body behind him moved, and then someone was pulling up his shirt, and more hands were pushing him upward so that his bare back pressed against the warmth of Mr. Reevesworth’s naked abdomen. The cold towel moved from his neck, and someone dragged it across his face.
“I’m panicking, aren’t I?”
“Well, you’re breathing and speaking again,” Mr. Moreau murmured.
Collin shuddered. “Did…did I answer enough? Can you tell me what I did wrong now?”
Mr. Reevesworth’s arms tightened around Collin. “I need you in my lap, now.” He pulled Collin up and onto the couch and cradled him sideways. Mr. Moreau settled at Collin’s feet, facing his husband. Collin’s limbs were rags. He let himself be crushed against Mr. Reevesworth. It was all that was keeping him real.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Collin,” Mr. Reevesworth stated softly but firmly. He stroked Collin’s throat and chest. “You woke something in Émeric that he thought was dead and gone. And he didn’t know what to do with it. It was confusion that made him pull back.”
Fuck. He’d forced Mr. Moreau’s hand. He’d let his anxiety get the better of him.
“Stop, Collin.” Mr. Moreau put his hand on Collin’s leg. “Richard, do you mind if I speak directly?”
